Back to Life, Back to Reality
by JackiLeigh
Summary: Neal suffers from anmesia after an explosion and building collapse. He's assumed dead. Four months later... No slash, Neal whumpage, unsure of degree.
1. Chapter 1

Back to Life, Back to Reality

**AN: This is NOT a song fic. But if the title sounds familiar it was the title of a song by En Vogue. I just thought it would be fitting here.**

One name kept coming to his mind. Just one name, over and over again, Peter Burke. And he, somehow, knew it wasn't his. His feet were leading him. It had been 4 months and a lifetime ago since he had crossed that threshold. He spoke to the first person he saw.

But the agents in the FBI building in New York City were not used to unkempt, dirty, unshaven bums entering their doors. The agents in the building's lobby gave him a wide berth. And a couple of the agents were on the phone, immediately, to the building security requesting the man be lead out of the building. The security guards showed up almost immediately, the cameras picking up the man's entrance. They grabbed the young man and started towards the door. The bum called one of the men by name. The guard then noticed, for the first time. He was looking into a familiar pair of deep blue eyes.

**END NOTE: I hope this is a good enough tag to get you hooked. I am planning on trying a different POV and story-telling method here. I hope it works. Stay Tuned. Enjoy!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The guard stopped. He was staring. "Neal?!"

The other guard stopped pulling the young man toward the door. He looked at his partner. "Neal Caffrey? But Caffrey's…." He looked at the young man closely, those blue eyes. The hair was two inches longer and unwashed. The man was sporting a beard and mustache. But it was no doubt, on second look, that it was Caffrey.

"My name is Matthew." Neal was confused. "I'm Matthew. I'm…I'm looking for Peter Burke." Neal protested. "I need to talk to him."

One of the guards called to anyone within earshot. "Somebody get Agent Burke down here! Now! He's in the White Collar Division."

Peter hurried from his office when he got the call. The caller was not specific as to why he was needed in the building's lobby. But they reassured him that he needed to get down there immediately.

Peter started to step off the elevator. His knees almost gave way as he recognized the unkempt figure before him. He took a moment, leaning against the wall of the elevator for support, before he dared try to take a step forward.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**AN: Thanks, everybody, for the response. And this chapter is a lot longer. I didn't realize how short the second chapter actually was until I posted it, that's why you're getting two chapters today. I, most likely, will not post everyday. But I will try for every couple days. Enjoy!**

"Neal!" Peter said, engulfing Neal in a huge hug, mindless of Neal's appearance. "Where have you been, Kid? We all thought you were dead."

The reaction surprised Neal, but he returned the hug. The questions puzzled him. He stepped back. And he was feeling uncomfortable, even though he somehow felt like he knew the man. "You're Peter Burke?"

Peter nodded. He realized when he looked into Neal's eyes that there was a spark of recognition.

"Yeah, Neal. I'm Agent Peter Burke. You're Neal Caffrey. You work here. You're my Confidential Informant, my C.I. We're partners."

Neal shook his head and began to back away. It was too much information coming at him too fast. He had been living on the street, running cons, picking pockets to survive when he worked for the FBI? Something was very, very wrong here.

Neal turned to leave. "This is a mistake. I…I shouldn't have come here."

Peter didn't want to scare the Neal. It was obvious Neal was suffering from amnesia. And Peter didn't want to 'rush' him. He didn't want to scare Neal into running. He knew if Neal got out those doors it would be way too easy for him to blend into the sidewalk traffic. Peter would never find him again.

"Neal…." Peter said, starting to approach him again.

Neal began to back towards the door. He was suddenly very unsure of the bright idea he had had. "My name is Matthew." He paused. "I need to go." Neal then turned to run out the door.

Jones and Diana entered the building. They were returning from lunch and were confused by the scene in the lobby of the building. But they recognized Neal.

"Neal!" Diana said, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice. She had seen Peter signal them to be quiet and to not draw attention to themselves. But, at that point, she had not realized who was causing all the commotion.

Jones moved to block his path. "It's okay, Neal. It's Jones. You know me. We work together."

Neal looked at Jones, and backed away, still assessing his options. He knew, now, he would not make it out of the building. He couldn't fight. He had seen their weapons.

The man Peter, Diana and Jones were looking at was far removed from the Neal Caffrey they knew. This man was trapped and he knew it. He looked scared and unsure of himself. Two things Neal would never let the world see, no matter what.

"Neal…." Peter started.

"I'm not Neal! I don't know any Neal!" Neal insisted. "My name is Matthew."

Peter started again. "You…you came to see me." He paused. "Why?"

Neal shook his head. "I just keep…your name kept popping into my head. And…."

"You know me, Ne…." Peter stopped himself. "You know me. We've been partners, friends, for a long time. You…we thought we had lost you when the building fell." Peter paused. He felt himself getting a little emotional. "I looked for you…for hours. I…I didn't give up. They made me leave. The building was unstable. They wouldn't let me back in, again."

"I do remember fire." Neal replied. The man standing in front of him seemed to be apologizing to him. He didn't understand why.

Peter nodded. "Yes, there was an explosion. The…we got separated. I came out thinking you were already out. I went back in but…."

"I kept hearing voices."

Peter nodded. "We were calling for you, Diana, Jones and I."

Neal just looked at each of them.

"You needed my help." Peter implored. "That's why you came. That's why you're here." Peter said, he tried, again, to approach Neal.

"I don't…." Neal said struggling. "I don't know. I just…I needed to talk to you."

"Let me help you." Peter pleaded.

"I want to go home." Neal replied.

Peter hesitated before he asked, unsure of the answer he would get. "Where is home?"

"It's a big gray house with a lot of stairs." Neal replied.

Peter smiled. He was thrilled Neal was remembering his apartment, June's house. Peter fought the urge to hug Neal again, fearing it would scare him.

"I can help you with that. I can get you home." Peter said as he guided Neal over to the bench and both he and Peter sat down.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**AN: This story has been a great deal of fun to write. I'm getting to that different story-telling part. I am just building up to it. Thanks for your reviews, your alerts and your overall support. And I would like to thank all of you who have followed and favoritie me and my stories. I apologize for not sending you all a personal reply. But I have had an illness and have only been concentrating on writing the story. Jackie**

"I'll take you home." Peter said standing.

"Right now?" Neal was getting scared again, but something told him he could trust this man.

Peter nodded.

"I don't know." Neal shook his head.

Peter knelt down in front of Neal. "You came to me for help. Let me help you." He paused. "Diana and Jones will go with us. Would that be okay?"

Neal looked at Diana and Jones. He kind of trusted them, too. Neal nodded.

Peter nodded to Diana to call June. She stepped away from the group for a moment, and then returned, after making the call. Peter wanted to make sure that June was, in some way, prepared for the shock that was to come.

The cab ride to June's house was quiet. Peter watched Neal as he looked out the window. Neal didn't seem to be recognizing anything, until they stopped outside the front of June's mansion.

"Here we are." Peter said as the cab stopped, and he opened the door.

Neal smiled. "I've been here." He said as he stepped out. "I was here about a month ago. I just…I didn't know why. Now I do." He said, looking up at the house.

June met them at the door. Her mind had been reeling since Diana's call. She had not touched Neal's place since she had gotten he news, since the day he went missing. She had, though, over the course of the past few months, found herself standing at the door of his apartment. She would just stare in, hoping she would see him in there, trying to hear his voice.

June now stood in her doorway waiting for Peter to arrive with Neal. Neal's appearance took her by complete surprise, at first. Surely Peter knew his CI, and this couldn't be him. The long hair and the mustache and beard hid his face. And she could see that he had lost weight. But it was the eyes; she had looked into those brilliant blue eyes enough times to recognize the man.

June engulfed Neal in a huge hug. "Welcome home, Darlin'." She said. She then stepped back to look at him.

Neal was surprised. The house was magnificent, and this woman was just as adorned as her home. Plus, she obviously knew him. Neal smiled at her, she must really like him.

"Here's your gray house. And there's your stairs." Peter explained. Referring to what Neal had previously stated.

June looked at Peter, questioningly.

"Neal said he remembered a huge gray house with a lot of stairs." Peter explained.

"Yes, Darlin'…" June explained. "…you live on the top floor."

Neal looked at them, both then up the stairs. "I can see the Chrysler Building." He said, not really sure, himself, what it meant.

Peter smiled. "Yes, from your balcony you can see the Chrysler Building." He was thrilled the memories were returning, even if they were only a piece at a time.

Neal put his hand on the banister to go up. But he hesitated, looking back at the group.

"You wanted to come home. This is your home." Peter replied. "Go on up."

Neal nodded. He turned and headed up the stairs. The group followed. Neal paused, for just a second, on the second landing. He then continued. He was soon opening the door to his apartment. He stood in the doorway for just a second. The first thing that hit him was the amazing view through the French doors. He then crossed the room and went out onto the balcony.

"I find you out here a lot." June said, as she came up behind Neal. "You spend a lot of your time out here."

Neal nodded, but didn't' look at June. He finally turned and looked at her.

"I was happy here?" Neal asked.

June smiled. She touched his face, tears in her eyes. "I think so."

Peter, Diana and Jones watched June's and Neal's interaction from inside the apartment. It was the first time they really got to talk.

"I didn't mean to scare him, Boss." Diana started, referring to the incident in the lobby. "I just didn't…I didn't know it was him. I was so…surprised."

"What…Where has he been for the past 4 months?" Jones asked.

"Obviously on the streets, but I don't know. I had just started talking to him when you two walked in." Peter replied.

"Well, obviously he remembers something. He got into a cab with 3 strangers who promised to take him somewhere he didn't know." Diana observed.

Peter nodded. "He's remembering a little." He replied as they continued to watch Neal and June.

"Well, Neal. What do you say we go back in and I give you a tour of the rest of the place?" June offered.

Neal nodded. "Thanks, June."

June stopped and looked at him. She hugged him again. "You remembered my name." She said to his look of confusion. "I didn't tell you my name…I wanted to see of you would remember."

June took Neal around the apartment. Neal stopped and just looked at a few things, but then continued. He didn't seem to be remembering much.

"This is mine?" Neal asked, referring to the half-finished painting resting on the easel.

Peter stepped in an answered. "You always seemed to have some art project going." He replied.

"…arts and crafts…." Neal said nodding.

They all smiled at Neal on that one. They had all heard him refer to his masterpieces as 'arts and crafts.'

"What?" Neal asked.

"That's how you refer to your works, 'arts and crafts'.'" June explained. "And it doesn't do them justice. You've painted and sculpted some amazing things."

Neal went up to the painting and stood for a moment, just touching the surface. He said the name of the painting and the artist who painted the original. Everyone in the room smiled.

"If it's okay, I would really like to clean up a little, since you all say this is my place. I would like to use my bathroom, take a bath." Neal replied.

June nodded. "I'll go find you something to wear."

Neal nodded and headed into the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror. For the first time he noticed his appearance. He almost did a double take. He didn't recognize himself. It was a big transformation. He took off his shirt, and he could see his ribs. He had the feeling he didn't look at all like this, previously. He couldn't deny the toll that living on the streets had taken on him. He looked at the assortment of razors and shaving cream. But decided he would take care of that after he bathed. He also knew he would be going in for a haircut soon.

Neal ran his bath. He removed the rest of his clothing and then slipped into the tub. The heat was soothing and the steam helped to warm him. Before long he was asleep, his head resting against the rim of the tub.

Peter, June, Diana and Jones meanwhile were waiting in Neal's main room.

Diana looked at her watch, 20 minutes has passed. "Shouldn't somebody go…check on him? It's been awhile."

"What's he gonna do…jump out the window?" Jones asked.

Peter and Jones looked at each other, and then they both jumped up from the table.

"I'm not eager to see Neal in his 'birthday suit.'" Jones replied.

"Just go to the door and listen for…splashing." Diana offered.

Jones and Peter looked at Diana and grinned. They both then made their way down the hall to Neal's bathroom.

Neal opened his eyes to Peter's knock. "I'm okay, Peter." Neal said. He began to take his bath in earnest.

Peter opened the door a crack. "How did you know it was me?"

"You have a knock." Neal replied.

"I do?" Peter replied, surprised.

Neal nodded. "You have a particular style. You and Mozzie…."

Peter opened the door a little wider. He was smiling broadly.

"You called me by name, and you mentioned Mozzie." Peter replied.

Neal smiled back. "Yeah, I guess I did."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Peter and Jones returned to Neal's main room, letting him finish his bath. Peter told the others about what Neal remembered. Then he called El.

El made it to Neal's in record time, despite having to take a cab. It was a good thing that Peter had had the car. She would not have been able to see to drive anyway. She had been crying ever since Peter gave her the news.

El was standing in the doorway to Neal's apartment when Neal returned to his main living area, dressed in the clothes June had brought him. He had managed to trim his beard, a little. But he had done nothing to his hair besides wash it. Her first look at him caught her by surprise. He was not as clean shaven as she was used to. His hair was, most definitely, longer, and he looked thin. She stared for just a moment.

Neal looked at her and smiled. He saw her almost immediately. The memories of who she was, and what she was to him came flooding back. She was one of the few people, in his life, who had just accepted him, warts and all. She liked him for him. And she, judging from the tears streaming down her face, had obviously missed him.

Neal went over to El and pulled her into an embrace. "I'm okay, El. I'm okay."

El returned the hug. She pulled back from him after a moment, almost laughing. "It is you under all that scruff, isn't it?" She asked.

Neal smiled and nodded.

El still had tears in her eyes. She had to make sure, so with a trembling hand, she touched his face. "I never thought I would see those beautiful blue eyes again."

Neal took her hand and held it for a moment. "I missed you, too."

"Where have you been?" El asked.

Neal smiled at her. "That is a very long story."

"I'd love to hear it." El replied.

Peter looked at the interaction between Neal and El. It was obvious Neal remembered her, by the way he looked at her when she walked into the room. Peter was thrilled that Neal seemed to be remembering more.

"I'm tired." Neal admitted. The weariness hitting him hard, and he yawned. Then he remembered, he hadn't eaten. He hadn't eaten in a couple of days. He was starving, also. "I'm so hungry."

Neal went to his fridge and opened the door. But there was only a couple of bottles of wine.

June stopped forward. "I had the staff come up and clean everything out. "I'll have them shop for you today. We'll have it filled by the evening." June paused. "But meanwhile, just tell me what you want. I'll have it brought up."

Neal mind was still reeling. He still was having a little trouble believing that this had been his life.

"A sandwich and a cold glass of milk would be great." Neal replied.

June nodded. She left the apartment. She returned a few moments later with his food. She had made him a PB and J. She knew he loved apple jelly.

Neal sat down at the table. He took a bite of the sandwich. He then looked at June and smiled. "You remembered the apply jelly."

June nodded and smiled. She was thrilled he remembered her little touch.

Neal drank the milk, enjoying it immensely. He had not had milk in months, and it tasted great.

Neal got up from the table and went over to the bed. He was tired. No, he was beyond tired. He had not slept in days.

Peter watched his partner. "Go ahead, Neal. Get some rest." He encouraged.

Neal hadn't needed much encouragement. He pulled back the covers and practically fell into the bed. He was asleep in moments.

Peter told Jones and Diana to head back to the office. Peter knew news Neal's sighting would have already reached the White Collar division. And he was very surprised Hughes had not called him yet. But then again, Hughes was never a man to operate solely on rumor.

June left also. She went back downstairs to give her staff a grocery list for Neal. She promised she would be back to check on Neal later.

Peter sat down on Neal's couch. He turned on the TV and turned the volume very low.

"So, I guess we're staying." El said as she sat down beside her husband.

"You don't have to." Peter said. "It will probably be hours before he wakes up again."

El nodded. "I know. I want to be here, too."

Peter nodded. He opened his arms to his wife and she leaned back against his chest as they made themselves comfortable on the couch.

Twelve hours later Neal opened his eyes. He was confused, looking round the room for just a moment. He smiled when he looked over to his living room area and saw Peter and Elizabeth asleep on the couch. He quietly got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom.

The whole thing was surreal. A bad dream, but then, he had the proof. All he had to do was look in the mirror. He would never sport this much facial hair. And he rarely let his hair get this long. He then lifted his t-shirt. He had gotten thin, too thin. He didn't like being able to see his ribs. He ran his hand over his chest, just to make sure that those were his ribs he was seeing in the mirror. He looked at his face again. He needed to take care of his beard, it looked horrible. But at that point his stomach won out, it was practically talking to him. He headed to his kitchen.

Peter was the first to open his eyes. Was he dreaming? He smelled coffee and bacon. He looked around to see his partner standing in the kitchen. He was putting food on the table. He then took a bottle of OJ out of the fridge and sat it out.

"Neal." Peter said, standing up and stretching.

"Good morning." Neal said smiling at him. "You didn't have to stay. But I do appreciate that you did."

"What's all this?" Peter asked, looking at the table. He saw eggs, sausage, bacon and fresh fruit, along with coffee and orange juice.

"I just wanted to say…thank you."

"For what?" Peter said he was smiling. He understood what Neal was saying. But he needed Neal to understand. "You're my partner and my friend. I couldn't just leave."

"El could have gone home."

Peter smiled again. "Sorry Kid, I'm afraid you're stuck with us."

Neal smiled and nodded. "I guess June made good on her word." He said, changing the subject.

"I think she bought out the store for you. It seemed we were forever putting things away." Peter looked over at his wife. She was still asleep. "How's the memory?"

Neal shook his head. "I don't know. I…there's gaps."

Peter nodded.

"Seeing Elizabeth...it brought back a lot. She's one of the few people in my life who just accepted me for me." Neal admitted.

"That's because she likes you." Elisabeth said, standing up and stretching. "And she is an excellent judge of character."

Both Neal and Peter turned and looked at El and smiled.

"Morning, Hun." Peter said as he kissed his wife.

Morning, Hun." El replied.

"Good morning, Neal." El said, hugging him. "You're looking much better." She said, stepping back. "But you're too thin."

"I'm working on that." Neal said as he, Peter and El all sat down at the table.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**AN: Well, everybody. I think that this may be my last chapter. I have really enjoyed taking this new look, for me, into Neal's life. I have to warn you though. I don't live in out in the country, rural America. We don't have the problem with homelessness that a big city would have. And I have not known any homeless people. I will try not to make it sound too 'Hollywood.' But that IS where I will be getting most of my information, TV and movies. And if it does come across that Hollywood, I apologize in advance. Also, this is the part of the story that I had mentioned before, the new writing style. It's new because it's not normally how I would tell a story. But I think it will be interesting to read. Jackie**

The change was remarkable. In one month's time Neal was almost back to his old self. He had gained his weight back. He could no longer see his ribs. His abs and pecs were returning, thanks to June's basement workout room. But most importantly he was remembering more and more every day. He was now ready to go back to the office for the first time. He straightened his tie as he looked in the mirror. He looked like his old self again. He smiled at his reflection.

Also, in that months' time Neal had been examined by the doctor's service used to give the agents their physicals. He passed. The doctors had reset his shoulder perfectly and the forearm was healing well. He had gone in for a psych evaluation. The FBI had spoken to El and June, and all the agents who had encountered Neal in the lobby of the FBI building. They needed documented conformation that Neal truly didn't know who he was. They needed proof that Neal had not just run after having the anklet removed for case they had been working. It was going to be up to the same board who had given Neal his commutation hearing to say if he could continue working with Peter, or if he would be going back to jail. The process had been long and tedious. And the decision had come down just the week before. The board believed that Neal had truly lost his memory. They believed there had been no intentional deception and Neal, for those reasons, was allowed to return to his position as C.I.

Peter walked into Neal's apartment. "Are you ready for this?"

Neal sighed in lieu of an answer.

"Is it ready?" Peter asked.

Neal nodded and handed Peter a folder. Peter tucked it under his arm, and he and Neal exited the apartment.

Peter and Neal immediately went up to Peter's office once they got past the 'welcoming committee.'

Peter opened the file and began to read:

I couldn't see. The air was so thick. I couldn't really hear anything for a moment. The explosion seemed that close. I woke up, I don't know how much later, staring up at a concrete pillar just inches from my face. It was dark. I realized that I was not feeling any pain. I was afraid to move because, for one thing. I didn't know where I was or how I had gotten there. And I didn't know if I was severely injured or just numb from the cold. I finally decided to move my body in segments. I tried to move my head, and it moved freely. I then tried hands, than feet, left, right, etc. I had a problem with my right arm. It was pinned. I didn't know if it was broken, or if I moved it, if the building would fall in on me. I, by this time, was hearing machines. I heard people shouting. But I couldn't understand what they were saying. Mostly, what I heard, though, was the building moaning and groaning. I heard and felt every shift. Every movement they made with their equipment sent a shower of debris down on me. It just made the moaning and groaning of the building louder and louder. I ended up working my arm out from where it was pinned. The pain was incredible. I had a broken bone in my forearm and my shoulder was dislocated. I then left the building. I don't know how I got out with anybody seeing me. It struck me then I didn't know where I was going. I remember asking people if they knew me. I must have passed out at some point. I don't remember where I was at that time. But I later woke up in a hospital. They had me listed as John Doe. The doctors told me about my injuries, my arm and my head. I just don't' remember any of it. I was just trying so hard to remember who I was, and wondering why I was under a collapsed building. I left the hospital after a couple of days, after I got a few of the supplies I would need.

The first few days were hard. I went to shelters, but nobody really wanted to help me. I couldn't remember who I was. But the workers there just thought I was lying about that, that I didn't want them to know because I was wanted by the police or the FBI. They didn't want anybody who could be dangerous to the people already in residence. They told me I could come back when I could give them a name and, at least, one former address. I've never really lived on the streets before, so this was new for me. I picked pockets. I ran cons, whatever I could do to get a little money.

There were a lot of days I didn't eat, in the beginning. Later, two weeks after the explosion, I met up with an old guy named Rick. He had been homeless for a few years. He is the one who gave me the name Matthew. He said I looked like a Matthew. He helped me out a lot. I still couldn't remember anything. It was like I was visiting the city for the first time. He took me into the thrift shops, and I bought clothing. He showed me where the shelters and soup kitchens were. He showed me how to avoid the cops, getting picked up for vagrancy. He showed me where he stayed. He and his friends gave me a place to sleep. It was just a dirty blanket on the floor of an old abandoned shoe factory, but it was warm. The furnace in the basement still worked. Rick and his friends had converted it to wood-burning, and it had to be manually fed. And a lot of the time, there was nothing to feed it. But it was a shelter from the elements. Of course, we kept an eye on opening at the shelters. That meant food and a shower. So we took advantage of those opportunities every time that we could. Since I, by then, had a name, a fake one, and an address, the shoe factory, they would let me in to stay. Plus, most of the shelter workers knew Rick.

The nightmares started the very first night. I would wake up in a cold sweat thinking the building had caved in on me. My heart would be pounding, and I would sit straight up. Needless to say, those were some sleepless nights. Then I started having other dreams. I would just see a face. A face of a man I didn't know who called me 'Kid' and 'Buddy.' I couldn't put a name to the face for the longest time. Then one night I sat up and said the name 'Peter.' But I still didn't know the context. I didn't know where 'Peter' belonged in my life. As time went on though, I had the dream more frequently. It was coming together for me. I was walking by the FBI building one day and I just stopped and stared. I was staring at the waterfall, for some reason that waterfall was so familiar to me. I knew it. It was like I used to pass it every day. There were days I would just stand across the street and stare at the building, wondering what the connection was. It didn't make sense to me. Then I went into the coffee shop across the street one day. And one of the counter people looked at me like she recognized me. She asked me if I was doing undercover work. I guess she had seen me walk across to the FBI building so much, she assumed I was an agent. I still hadn't fully made the connection. But things were starting to make sense from that. If I had been undercover and it had gone wrong, no one would know immediately that I was in trouble. Nobody would come looking for me right away. And it may take a long time before anybody realized anything was wrong, depending on how deep my cover was. But then, I knew that there was someone I could go to. I knew that Peter would be able to help me. I wasn't sure how I knew, but I did. I just had to find a way to alert him and not the rest of the FBI. I, in my position, didn't know who I could trust at that point. I knew I needed to find Peter. I just didn't know how to go about it.

One day, I found myself walking around in June's neighborhood. I almost just walked right up to the door. Then I caught a look at myself in the reflection off the door. That stopped me. I looked like what I was, a bum. And I figured, even if she did know me, she wouldn't let me in her house. But I just couldn't get over the feeling that I had been there before. I kept picturing a lot of stairs. And, for some reason, I knew there was a huge patio, and that I had been on it before. I walked past the house several times after that, trying to work up my courage just to go up to the door and knock. I never could.

For weeks I just existed. I spent my days roaming the streets. I tried to find something somewhere that would spark a memory. I was trying so hard to remember. And I was getting very angry and frustrated at how my brain was working, giving me flashes of things, of events, of people. People I didn't know and places I could not ever remember being.

Rick saw my frustration. He knew when I got frustrated I would just sit for hours and draw. I drew anything and everything. Rick was a big fan. He kept some of my drawings. But he encouraged me to sell others. He thought that they were that good. He told me one day, for my birthday, he was going to get me a present. I asked him how he knew it was my birthday. He smiled and told me in my condition I could have any birthday I wanted, and he had picked that day for me. He then gave me my present, a sketch pad and a set of pencils.

It was like the world had opened up for me. I could record what I was seeing in my head. I had a picture to look at of the people and places I had seen. It was concrete. I could take the pictures out and look at them. I then went around the city and tried to find these places. And I found a lot of them, I kept going back to June's. I had sketched the front of her house. I had sketched some of my apartment, and I had sketched an partial view of the patio and the cityscape view from my patio.

As things started coming together for me, they all pointed back to Peter. By this time I had remembered a last name. So one day I decided to go into the FBI Building and see if I could speak to Peter Burke.

Peter sat quietly for just a moment. Then he looked up at Neal. There was a mixture of awe, surprise and pain in his eyes.

"That was…incredible." Peter said, simply.

Neal nodded. "It's not exactly in FBI-report format." He replied.

"It doesn't have to be. The board has already made their decision. But they wanted a narrative from you. They wanted it to be just what it is, you telling your story." Peter explained.

Neal nodded. "I have something you need to see." He pulled the small sketch pad from his inside jacket pocket and handed it over to Peter.

Peter took it and opened it. He stopped on the first page. He was staring at an excellent drawing of his own face. Peter thumbed through the pages. He stopped to admire a couple then sat the sketch pad aside.

"Neal I…." Peter started.

Neal shook his head stopping him. He put his hand on Peter's forearm. "I know you never gave up on me. I know you never stopped looking. I know that, Peter. I know you. It's alright. I'm not angry."

Peter shook his head. "If I could have found you earlier…." He stopped, implying Neal would not have had to go through all that he did.

Neal shook his head. "I probably would have ran. I wasn't ready to see you. It needed to happen the way it did." Neal paused. "I'm back now, that's all that matters."

THE END (sort of….)

**END NOTES: I have an epilogue, or two, planned. They will be so sweet that they will rot your teeth, and you will need a couple tissues, just so you know. Hope you enjoyed. Jackie**


	7. Epilogue Part 1

Epilogue: Part 1

El opened the door to her home. She sat he purse and coat down. She then sat down on the couch to look through her mail. She paused to stare at a particular plain white envelope. She thought she recognized the hand writing. But there was no return address. She opened the envelope, pulled out the letter and began to read.

_Peter and El:_

_There are few words to describe the past few months of my life. I can't tell you what it's like to wake up one day and not know who you are, not know…anything. I spent all those months trying to figure out who I was. And I just kept seeing Peter's face in my mind. And then when I saw you, it was like the flood gates opened. It just broke my heart to see you crying, El._

_When I first came to your house to see Peter, I had no idea what you would be like. I never expected he would be married to such a beautiful woman. I really don't know what I expected, you took me by surprise. But you're perfect for him. Peter is so severe, so by-the-book. And you operate more on intuition, feelings and emotions. Most people would have seen a conman and just not opened the door. Not only did you let me in that first time, you sat down and talked to me. You wanted to know me, who I was. That meant a lot, El. It still does. Most people can't or won't get past the con to even take the time to get to know the man. _

_I know I give you guys worry. And I don't mean to. I am not intentionally trying to make your lives more complicated. I know what you both have done for me. I know the sacrifices you have made for me, Peter. And I know, El, that sometimes you have been at odds with your husband over me. I know the fights have never lasted long and that there has been no damage to your relationship, but it bothers me. You two are so honest and open with one another. It's so nice to see that. My dad had been lying to my mom about so many things by the time he left. I'm not sure she knew what to believe about him. I think she got all her correct information from Ellen. _

_I knew, all those months that I was out on the streets, that I had a home. I just knew it. And I don't mean June's place. I meant I had a place I belonged. I had people who cared about me. I had people who were actively looking for me. I had people who cared. _

_I know, Peter, that you never gave up on me. I think that was why I kept seeing your face. It kept me going. I had to find out who this person was I kept seeing. I had to know who he was and what part he played in my life. I know, all those years ago, when you first started hunting me. I know you just thought of me as a smart criminal, a challenge. I'm glad you took the chance on getting to know the man behind it all._

_You told me once, Peter, that the more you found out about me the more you liked me. I never told you that I felt the same way. I, of course, in the beginning hated having a fed on my tail and I considered you just another nuisance I had to avoid. But then I read up on you. I began to respect the man behind the badge. I saw why you were so motivated to do what you did. And, oddly, I respected it. Now, getting to see you from this side, getting to work with you, side-by-side, that respect has not wavered. _

_I enjoy the friendship I have managed to forge with you, Peter. I appreciate you taking a chance on me with this whole C.I. thing. I know you didn't have to, and God knows, I have not made it easy. But I have made it interesting. You've got to admit that._

_El, you are one of the few people, who has just accepted me for me. And I know I have told you this before, but after all this. I appreciate it so much more. _

_You both have given me so such. I just hope, one day, to be able to return the favor._

_I love you guys,_

_Neal _

El sat staring at the letter. She was still sitting looking at it when Peter came home from work. He could tell she had been crying.

"El, what…?"

"Neal." She said, handing Peter the letter.


End file.
